Polly repeated it, and added, "I asked him in another letter if he didn't admire Miss B. as much as Tom, and he wrote back that she was 'a nice girl, but he had no time for nonsense, and I needn't get my white kids ready for some years yet, unless to dance at Tom's wedding.' Since then he hasn't mentioned Maria, so I was sure there was something serious going on, and being in Tom's confidence, he kept quiet."
"It does look bad. Suppose I say a word to Tom, just inquire after his heart in a general way, you know, and give him a chance to tell me, if there is anything to tell."
"I'm willing; but you must let me see the letter. I can't trust you not to hint or say too much."
"You shall. I'll keep my promise in spite of everything, but it will be hard to see things going wrong when a word would set it right."
"You know what will happen if you do," and Polly looked so threatening that Fan trembled before her, discovering that the gentlest girls when roused are more impressive than any shrew; for even turtledoves peck gallantly to defend their nests.
"If it is true about Maria, what shall we do?" said Fanny, after a pause.
"Bear it; people always do bear things, somehow," answered Polly, looking as if sentence had been passed upon her.
"But if it isn't?" cried Fan, unable to endure the sight.
"Then I shall wait." And Polly's face changed so beautifully that Fan hugged her on the spot, fervently wishing that Maria Bailey never had been born.
